A Commencement Message

She was 40 years old and cleaning the house in preparation for her husband’s surprise party.

The phone rang.

It was the president of the university. He was calling to inform her that she, Rita Dove, poetess, had won the Pulitzer Prize.

Rita was filled with emotion—first shock and then self-satisfaction--followed most intensely by fear.

In an instant, her world had changed.

She felt unprepared—uncertain---terrified.

And when the university president required that Rita appear for a press conference later that day, her anxiety-filled response was A press conference? I don’t know what to do at a press conference—I have never done one before.

And the president curtly responded You’ll learn--and then he hung up.

No one ever really knows what they are doing until they actually do it.

There is fear at all crossroads—at any path formerly untaken. And it is especially true as 22 year olds receive their diploma at college’s end—which is why the simple words You’ll learn was so befitting as part of Emory’s University’s keynote commencement  address.

For once the ingredients are mixed and the cake is baked there is nothing left to do but to eat it. Cake is not made merely to be had. And while observing and inhaling the aroma of the prepared treat hints at its possible tastiness, the only way to know for sure is to sample its flavor. Only ingestion ascertains the goodness (or not) of the ingredients.

Because truth be told graduation is an ending. For every graduate—with or without an itinerary---the future is uncertain. Some paths are chosen and some are thrust. Some roads are mapped and some are blind. Some passages are dead ends and some are highways. And no one knows which is which, until they resign themselves to walk.

 It is the only way to learn.